


Intoxicant

by webgeekist



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 00:48:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4080172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webgeekist/pseuds/webgeekist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What whiskey and want won't do...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intoxicant

In the dim light, even in the spacious room, the distinctive scent of good scotch was impossible to miss. Emma’s eyes searched for and found the woman she sought – or, rather, a pair of legs, folded neatly and propped up by the heel of a rich-looking red stiletto. She couldn’t see the glass, but she heard the distinct tinkle of ice cubes at the bottom of an empty glass.

“While you’re up, would you grab the bottle? It’s on the table by the bookshelf.”

Regina would never allow herself to slur, but there was a slowness to her words that typically didn’t exist. Emma looked away from the legs and the desk, over her shoulder and in the corner where the ex-mayor kept her stash of office liquor. 

Though she suspected the woman was inebriated enough, she chose to indulge the request.

The bottle – which was really a crystal decanter, was cool to the touch. Emma crossed the room and rounded the desk, finding at last the rest of the woman she had been in search of.

Regina’s gaze met hers immediately, then darted down to the bottle in her hand before she raised the empty glass.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” she voiced, though she poured two fingers worth of the amber liquid, anyway.

“You would think,” Regina replied. “And yet, I seem to always come back for more.”

It was obvious to Emma she didn’t mean the drink.

“Not everyone thinks you’re evil, you know.”

“Yes. They do.” The crystal highball met her ruby lips, and with one long swig half the whiskey was gone. “And they should. I am evil.”

“You are drunk.”

“I am capable of being many things at once, Miss Swan.” Her eyes, still watching Emma intently, narrowed. “I am not merely some character in Henry’s storybook.”

Emma’s hands wrapped carefully around Regina’s slender ankles and lifted them, just slightly, off the desk. She lowered herself and the legs to the floor, and on her knees, moved her hands to grasp the arms of the plush leather desk chair.

“You are not evil right now, Regina. You’re alone, and hurt. That doesn’t make you evil. That makes you human.”

For a long moment, they remained that way, each holding the other’s gaze and their own ground. Eventually, though, Regina leaned forward, shifting the dwindling ice cubes in the glass once more, and brought their lips together.

Emma was shocked at first, and completely unprepared for the kiss, but as Regina’s lips moved around her own, as if made of liquor, she found herself quickly intoxicated.

She could taste the whiskey on Regina’s tongue.

It was really, really good whiskey.

“To be human,” Regina said, slowly, around their kiss, “is to be evil.”

Emma’s heart leapt, stuttered, pulled, and thudded with every wild beat. The kiss continues, lingered, deepened until the beat of her heart could be felt lower and harder. Heat flowed through her, as if carried in her veins instead of blood.

If she was drunk on Regina’s kiss alone, what would happen if they dared go further?

“We should stop,” she whispered. 

“Why?"

“Because…” She didn’t have a reason. She didn’t have the words for one.

Regina used the interruption as an excuse to move her mouth, and trailed light, soft, wet kisses down the side of her visitor’s neck.

“Do you really want me to stop?”

The answer was no – Emma never wanted Regina to stop.

She found herself on her feet just for a few moments, long enough for a belt to be unbuckled and a silk shirt to be untucked, and for their places to be reversed. Emma fell heavy into the chair and it rolled back just a bit, but Regina found her new seat on her lap, anyway, her knees lodged between Emma’s thighs and the arms of the chair, holding her in place. Regina’s face leveled with her own, a sly, dark smile gracing her full lips as she raised the glass – still in hand – and placed the edge against Emma’s lower lip. Cool, like the decanter, its touch such a sharp contrast to the thick heat between that the seated woman gasped. The vessel was tipped, and what remained of the amber liquid spilled through those parted lips, into Emma’s mouth.

What heat was present in the air seemed to spill down her throat and spread through her body as the liquid intoxicant took quick hold. A slow, hot, open kiss chased the whiskey, and the feeling of Regina’s tongue sliding across her lips, taking that last taste of spirits back for herself, shot a sharp warmth through her veins anew.

There were hands – one content to slide up her belly and come to rest across her breast, its thumb slowly teasing the nipple there to attention. The other wandered like a restless spirit around Emma’s waistline, along the taut line of muscle next to her spine, across her ribcage with fingers splayed as if to mold the skin there. The hand drags Emma’s attention away from the feeling of dizziness and any feeling at all except for the hands and lips and oh god anticipation of that wandering hand finally resting momentarily on her stomach before pressing beneath the fabric of her jeans.

Emma managed, briefly, to think there’s no way that will work, with her legs so tightly pressed together, but one of Regina’s fingers managed to slip through her folds (god, how was she that wet?) and the tip of her fingernail just scraped against the hood of her clit. She hissed, not quite prepared, but entirely too ready, for the electric shiver that passed through her whole body, and then moaned softly as the long finger grow bolder and pressed further, circling so slowly it could only be called a tease. 

Emma wanted more…so, so much more, and so badly that it was just shy of painful.

“Regina,” she gasped as that free hand came around her neck and pulled her back to liquor-stained lips. “Please.”

That stroking stilled, and might have drawn a dissatisfied groan if not for the pad of the index finger pressed lightly against Emma’s clit, holding that wicked need in place.

“I like the way you beg, Miss Swan.” The words were low and gritty, a growl filled with danger and lust and maybe just a little fear. Regina’s mouth moved across Emma’s cheekbone, along her jaw, until it closed over an earlobe. The finger holding her on edge pressed just a little harder as teeth scraped lightly across skin. “Do it again.”

The answer was a single word in the shape of a moan. “Please.”

Regina’s lips pulled at the earlobe one last time before lips moved down, leaving a wet but short trail to the place where Emma’s heartbeat pulsed against her skin.

Then, blessedly, the hand between her legs began to move again.

She pressed further, lower, until it was the heel of Regina’s hand and not just a single finger holding the delicious pressure over the sensitive bundle, until two fingers slid deep into wet and wanting heat. It wasn’t going to take much, but Regina still managed to move her fingers, to curl them deliciously against Emma’s inner walls, to stroke and press and take even in tight confines. Emma felt her hips jerk toward the delectable friction, but never move, still locked in place by the weight of the woman over her.

The edge was close and the fall would be hard, and Emma wanted the blissful release. She wanted Regina – dark, stormy, moody Regina – to bring her to it like a ship in a storm to a rocky shore.

She fucked like rainfall, like a storm, heavy and hard and loud. And when Emma came, she came like the thunder, electric and deep, shattering the heavy silence.

It took several moments for Emma to come back to herself, but by the time she could finally form words and not grunts again Regina had moved away, across the room to the bar, her hand wrapped in a tea towel, wiping her deeds away as if it were just a mess to be blotted out.

“Regina…”

The woman was silent, but turned her head toward the cracked sound of her name.

“Okay, you’re a little evil. That was definitely a little evil.”


End file.
